Love, Elizabeth
by Natural Logarhythm
Summary: Will reunites with Elizabeth when she returns from a year-long visit to England. However, they aren't children anymore, and things are changing between them. Two-shot set before CotBP.
1. Will

_**Love, Elizabeth**_

**Summary: Will reunites with Elizabeth when she returns from a year-long visit to England. However, they aren't children anymore, and things are changing between them. Two-shot set before CotBP.**

**The second chapter of this story is in progress and well under way. However, I'm still open to constructive criticism, which would be **_**very**_** much appreciated. If there's something you think I need to change or include, give me a suggestion.**

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><p>The sun was still high in the cloudless, blue sky as Will Turner made his way down to the docks of Port Royal. It was ungodly hot, as it usually was, but an intermittent breeze helped alleviate the suffering of those outside. Will could smell the sea and hear the cry of the gulls wafting toward him on the wind. He nodded to acquaintances as they passed, but didn't stop to speak to anyone. His thoughts were elsewhere.<p>

He had labored hard today to finish his work early, as he had every day for the past week. Each day after finishing his more urgent tasks, he had slipped out the door and down to the docks of the port. His master Mr. Brown was usually passed out drunk by that time, so he didn't have to worry about making excuses for his behavior. Every day for the last week, he had looked for one ship among the many that were docked there, and every day he was disappointed. He would sit by the pier until nightfall, whittling to pass the time and watching the sea, waiting.

Today was much the same. Upon arriving at the pier, he looked for the ship he was waiting for and didn't find it there. He sat down on a barrel where he would have a good view of the bay, and settled in to watch and wait.

As he sat there, he pulled a letter from his pocket and unfolded it carefully. It was a bit crumpled and stained; he had been carrying it in his pocket since he received it a week ago. It was starting to fall apart at the creases, he had unfolded it to read so many times. It may have been a little the worse for wear, but it was still legible.

_Dear Will,_

_Wonderful news! Father and I are returning to Jamaica soon! Father has _finally _finished his business here in England, and we will depart in one week on the _Interceptor._ She's to join the Navy's fleet in Port Royal. She's truly a beautiful ship; I can't wait to set sail! But it won't be the same without you there with me, like on the first crossing I made from England. Now _that_ was certainly an exciting voyage—I don't think anything I experience on the _Interceptor_ will come close to the adventures I had with you. Don't get me wrong, I love sailing. I love the feeling I get when all I can see on the horizon is the open sea. But I'm still expected to act like a lady and stay in my cabin and not wander around the ship like we did when we were children, which of course takes a lot of the fun out of sailing._

_I really miss you, Will. I can't believe I haven't seen you for almost a year. Father held a party for my 16__th__ birthday last week and all sorts of people came, but I can honestly say that the best present I got was the letter I received from you, wishing me a happy birthday. I know that you're busy and don't have much time for letters, but it means a lot to me when you write to me about what's happening with you._

_I was going to write more about my last month here, but I'm tired of just writing you. I would rather tell you myself, face to face, when I see you again. I hope you don't mind. I'll see you soon, and I'll make my apologies for this short and uninformative letter when I do._

_Love,_

_Elizabeth_

Will folded the letter up again and tucked it safely back in his pocket. Every time he read it, something in his chest felt a little lighter, but tight at the same time. He thought he knew what that meant, but he wasn't sure if that was a good thing.

A lot of things had changed over the past year. But Will often thought that what had changed the most were his feelings for Elizabeth. He had heard the saying, 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder,' and he couldn't think of a more perfect example of this than himself. He had always adored Elizabeth, ever since their first meeting when they were children. She was his closest friend, and he would do anything and everything for her. The happiest he had felt since his mother's death was when he was at her side.

Yet, when she left with her father for an extended visit to England, he discovered something. Up to then, he had always thought of her as a dear friend, and in the first months of her absence, he had missed her terribly. He thought of her so often that he worked harder than ever to have a distraction from the constant ache of missing her. But there never seemed to be enough work to make that feeling go away.

Then he received her first letter. He could almost hear her voice as he read about the voyage (which wasn't nearly as fun without him) and her first week in London (in which her father introduced her to a young lady her age with whom she was supposed to be friends, but whom she couldn't find more vapid and uninteresting). He reached the end of the long letter and read her signature: _Love, Elizabeth_.

Upon reading that word, his heart leaped into his throat, and he was overcome with a feeling that was both exuberant and terrifying all at once. And that was the moment he realized that he perhaps felt more for Elizabeth than just friendship.

He must have read her letters dozens of times each, poring over them, memorizing them. Sometimes he just looked at her handwriting without reading, imagining her hand moving across the paper. The letters were wonderful, but they were also maddening. He couldn't stop himself from searching for clues as to her regard for him. Some things she wrote gave him hope, such as when she said she missed him or when she compared him favorably to other young men she had met. But then there were other things that seemed not as promising, like what she wrote in her third letter.

"_If my finishing school writing instructor could see this letter, she would probably faint. Writing correspondence to a young man beneath my station, and with such informal language!"_

Did Elizabeth really think him beneath her? Or was she just parroting the words of her instructor? Even after so many readings, Will could never decide whether Elizabeth's letters indicated she might return his feelings. He was therefore cautious about what he put into his own, much less frequent letters. He didn't write often because he had little time or money for paper and postage, and what's more, he wasn't nearly as good as Elizabeth at putting his thoughts down on paper. He wanted to tell Elizabeth how he felt, but knew that even if he had skill enough to put it into words, it wouldn't feel right to him to do it in a letter. No, this he would have to tell her in person.

Still, he wanted to give her a sign of his regard for her. Elizabeth always signed her letters, _"Love, Elizabeth."_ Will, to be more discreet in case Governor Swann should see the letter, signed his, _"Yours, Will."_ He couldn't think of a truer epithet.

The letters from Elizabeth were the closest he could get to being with her. They were the brightest point in his otherwise increasingly difficult life.

Just as his work afforded him a distraction from missing Elizabeth, her letters detailing her doings in England distracted Will from his own troubles. Just after he received her first letter, Mr. Brown received word that his only daughter had died. He had taken her death very hard, and started drinking. Will gradually took over more and more of the duties in the smithy as his master slipped further and further into dependence on drink. He covered for the older man so that he would not lose the respect of the town. He had learned most everything there was to the trade, so he started to do commissions himself that Mr. Brown should have done. Will did his best to help him, not just in the shop, but to overcome his grief. He knew what it felt like to lose someone close to him. But the only thing it seemed he could really do for his master was offer his silent support and hope that it was enough.

Even though Elizabeth's letters and his work served to distract him each from the other, they were both burdens in their own right. So Will found himself yet another distraction, one that didn't come with any caveats. A young officer of the Navy had come in one day to pick up a commission for his captain, and had admired the swords Will was making. He had greatly desired one for himself, but he couldn't afford to buy one. So, Will cut him a deal. He would make him a sword if the officer would give him fencing lessons in return. The deal was swiftly sealed, and Will began learning a different aspect of the sword. He knew how to make them, and now he would learn to wield one.

Will threw himself into learning, just as he did with everything in his life, and progressed quickly. Fencing made for an admirable distraction. When he was fencing, he was able to push his pile of work, his master's depression, and his feelings for Elizabeth out of his mind and just concentrate on the sword in his hand and the opponent in front of him. The movement of his body, the clash of steel, the strategic maneuvering, the rush of adrenaline—for one wonderful hour each day, everything in him could focus on just this. He would finish tired and aching, but feeling lighter than he had before, as though the fighting had relieved some of his considerable stress. He would have practiced even more if he had had the time.

Speaking of time, Will looked up to check the position of the sun. There were still several hours before sunset, but he wondered if he shouldn't head back to the shop anyway. What with waiting for Elizabeth's ship to arrive, he was starting to seriously fall behind in his work. He knew he would be up late into the night trying to finish commissions and repair work; perhaps he had better not waste most of his day at the docks.

He looked across the bay one last time, shading his eyes with a callused hand, and saw a sail on the horizon. It looked as though it were heading into port. Will decided to stay until he knew which ship it was, and if it wasn't hers, he would go back to work.

The ship grew larger as it drew closer, and Will could see that it was relatively new. His hopes began to rise. He stood up, straining his eyes to read the name of the ship, but it was still too far away. He watched the ship with an intensity that showed his impatience for Elizabeth's return. And finally, the ship drew near enough that he could make out her name: _Interceptor_.

Elizabeth was finally home.

Will rushed to the pier but was careful to stay out of the way of the dock workers as he waited, impatient, for the ship to dock. His eyes searched the deck and he was rewarded by the sight of Elizabeth standing on the upper deck near the back railing. She hadn't seen him yet. In fact, she was looking back the way the ship had come, out to sea. Will was immobilized by the sight of her, the light of the descending sun gilding her hair and face so that she seemed to almost glow.

Then Elizabeth turned and looked toward the harbor, and Will found that he could breathe again. He raised his hand to wave to her, not sure if she would see him. She must have though, because she ran to the side rail and leaned far out over it, hanging onto a rope for balance. She waved back, and Will was pretty sure she was smiling. Then her father came up and whisked her off the deck, probably to lecture her about unsafe conduct.

It felt to Will as though it took hours for the ship to dock, even though he knew by the passage of the sun that the time was actually much shorter. Finally the gangplank was lowered, and one of the first people down it was Elizabeth. She practically ran to Will, a bit wobbly from her sea legs, and cried out his name just before throwing her arms around his neck. She was obviously past caring about any breach in propriety, so Will decided he didn't care either. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close to him. The feeling of holding her in his arms at long last was indescribable; his heart pounded and his entire body seemed to tingle with joy. He was so overjoyed to see her again that he lifted her up and spun her around once while she laughed.

As he set her back down, she didn't let go. "I missed you so much, Will," she said softly in his ear.

Will answered in kind, feeling his heart swell at her words. "I missed you too, Elizabeth."

No sooner had he said the words, than their moment of reunion was interrupted by the voice of Governor Swann ringing out from just behind them. "Elizabeth!" He somehow managed to sound both scandalized and exasperated. The two friends sprang apart and turned to see Elizabeth's father just a few yards away, making his way toward them. He was by their side in seconds, a stern look upon his countenance. Will cringed inwardly at his own forward behavior, though he couldn't quite bring himself to regret it.

"Elizabeth, _please_ try to comport yourself as befits a lady. You're not a child anymore, so you mustn't act like one."

Elizabeth didn't seem contrite at all; in fact, she was still smiling. "Father, I haven't seen Will for a whole year! We were just greeting each other!"

"Well, there are more appropriate ways of greeting your friends, as you should well know. Didn't you learn anything in finishing school?"

A rather sulky look crossed Elizabeth's face, and Will could see she was about to retort with something that she would probably regret saying later. He decided it was time for him to intervene.

"Governor Swann," he said with a slight bow, before Elizabeth could get a word in, "welcome back to Port Royal. I hope your voyage was good?"

Will's distraction seemed to work. The governor gave him a tight smile and said, "Hello, Mr. Turner. Yes, I suppose it was good sailing and mostly calm seas, though I have to say that I am glad to be on dry land once more. Wouldn't you say so, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth seemed to have caught on to Will's attempt to distract her father, because she played along. "I rather enjoyed the voyage, father. Though I am glad to be back home again." She smiled at Will then, and he felt his heart speed up again as he smiled back.

Before the conversation could continue, a man in a Navy uniform appeared at the governor's side. "Sir, your carriage is waiting. I'll have your luggage sent up to the house in a separate wagon."

"Ah, thank you, Captain Norrington. Elizabeth and I are greatly fatigued from the journey, so I'll leave the arrangements for the luggage in your more than capable hands." He smiled, glancing at Will, before continuing. "I wonder, Captain, if you remember Will Turner? He was once under your command."

Captain Norrington looked at Will as well, smiling. "Indeed, sir, how could I forget the cabin boy of the _Dauntless_? The circumstances, you must admit, were rather unique." The governor chuckled. "But now you're the apprentice of Mr. Brown, the blacksmith, are you not?"

"That's right, sir," Will answered.

"His work is the finest in the town, but I hear that you have almost caught up to him in the quality of your craftsmanship."

"You pay me a great compliment to say so, sir, but I still have much to learn from my master."

"I see that modesty is one of your virtues, young man."

The corner of Will's mouth turned up. "As is honesty."

Governor Swann and Captain Norrington both laughed at that, and Elizabeth smiled at him, which made his heart start pounding again. Then the governor turned to the captain and said, "Would you mind escorting my daughter to the carriage? I'd just like to have a quick word with Mr. Turner."

"Of course, sir." With that, Captain Norrington held out his arm for Elizabeth.

Elizabeth didn't look too happy about leaving so soon, but she seemed to think that she had aggravated her father enough for one day because she accepted without comment. "I'll see you later, Will."

"Until then, Elizabeth." Will had also hoped for a longer meeting, but for now he was content with just having held her after so long without seeing her. He watched her walk away with Captain Norrington, and probably would have gazed after her all the way up the pier if Governor Swann hadn't cleared his throat to recall his attention.

"Well, Mr. Turner," began the governor, "I have to say it's good to see you after so long. You look well. I trust the apprenticeship is still going satisfactorily?"

"Yes, sir. Though it's been a rough year. My master's daughter died a few months ago."

"Oh, I'm very sorry to hear that. Please give my condolences to your master."

So Governor Swann hadn't known about the death of Mr. Brown's daughter. Will had written about it in a letter to Elizabeth after it happened. That her father didn't know probably meant that Elizabeth hadn't told him about the letters. Will wasn't surprised. Elizabeth tended to hide her breaches in etiquette from her father rather than argue with him about them.

"I will, sir. I'm just glad I can be there for him when he needs me."

"Yes, it's good at least that he has you helping him. I can only imagine what I would do should anything befall Elizabeth." Governor Swann sighed and glanced up at the sky as Will forced the unwelcome thought of Elizabeth dying from his mind. "Speaking of which," the governor continued, "I know that you and Elizabeth have been…close since you met those years ago at sea."

"Yes, sir, Elizabeth has been a good friend to me." The governor began to walk slowly up the pier toward the carriage, and Will followed.

"And that's good! But I'm afraid that I have been a bit more lax than I should have in enforcing proper etiquette with the two of you. Oh, it was fine when you were children, but now that you're older…well, people will think it's unseemly. You both ought to act like proper adults now. Especially since the two of you are…from different classes. Do you understand?"

Will listened to Governor Swann's little speech in confusion and with a growing sense of foreboding. When he mentioned Will and Elizabeth being 'from different classes,' Will felt something constrict painfully in his chest. He looked down at the ground so as not to meet the eye of the older man. "You are saying you don't want us to be friends anymore?"

"Oh no, my dear lad, that's not what I meant at all!" The governor sounded surprised, and Will was somewhat relieved to hear it. "I just want the two of you to follow proper protocol when you see each other, that's all. For your part, that just means making only polite contact, which, I'm afraid, does not include hugs. And you mustn't call her by her first name; rather, you should call her Miss Swann. Anything else is too…familiar for polite society."

Will could feel his face flushing with embarrassment at his conduct with Elizabeth just minutes ago. "Sir, I…apologize for my rude behavior."

"No need to apologize, young man; it's really my fault for letting such behavior continue for so long unchecked. And I know that I won't have any trouble from you; you're a good lad. It's Elizabeth that's going to need discipline in this area." He smiled wryly. They had now come near the street, where Will could see Captain Norrington handing Elizabeth up into the carriage. "Well then, that's all I wanted to say. Good day, Mr. Turner. We'll see each other again soon, I'm sure."

"Good day, Governor," Will responded, inclining his head. He watched as the governor climbed into the carriage and it rattled down the street, bearing Elizabeth away from him.

Will made his way slowly back to the shop without being conscious of his surroundings. He did not acknowledge anyone he knew with a nod or wave this time; in fact, he was so deep in thought that he wasn't even aware of them if he passed them.

He finally arrived at the blacksmith's shop and entered. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it. His eyes swept the shop, taking in the furnace, the tools, the donkey. Finally, they landed on Mr. Brown, sitting on a barrel by the forge, a flask held loosely in his fingers, sound asleep. Will smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. "Right where I left you."

Will removed the flask from Mr. Brown's hand and set it on the floor, shook him into some semblance of consciousness, and then helped him up to his bedroom behind and above the shop. He left a pitcher of water for him for when he should awake, then went back to the shop. He was very behind in his work, and now was as good a time as ever to start catching up.

However, instead of going straight to work, he slumped onto the barrel that his master had recently vacated. He heaved a sigh as he stared into the flames. This afternoon had begun with such happiness and now—now Will didn't know what to think.

He loved her. He knew now that what he had suspected for the past year was true. He was certain that no other woman could make him feel the way he had when he had held her close to him. There was no denying it to himself anymore. Now he wanted nothing more than to find a way to tell her and find out if she might return his feelings. She certainly still thought of him as a close friend—this afternoon had proved that. But Will wasn't sure if she felt more than that for him. They had always, from day one, called each other by their first names, and hugs and other casual touches were nothing new either. So her behavior at their reunion didn't necessarily mean that she felt the same way about him as he did about her. He longed to know what she felt.

But then, did it even matter? Did it matter whether she loved him, when there was no way they could be together? Her father had made that clear in his words to Will. He and Elizabeth were from 'different classes.' She was far above him and out of his reach. She should marry a lord, not a blacksmith. He wasn't good enough for her, and there was no way he ever could be. He knew that. He had always known that; he just hadn't wanted to think about it. Love had blinded him to reality.

Governor Swann would never approve a match between his daughter and a blacksmith; it would not be proper in the circles of society Elizabeth should inhabit. The governor had said that he didn't mean for them to end their friendship, but isn't that more or less what he was asking by requiring them to follow proper etiquette? If they had followed proper protocol from the beginning, Elizabeth and Will would never have been friends at all. Young ladies don't befriend penniless, shipwrecked urchins or blacksmiths' apprentices. If he and Elizabeth were to behave properly now, it would indeed mean a severe curtailment of their friendship. Using formal language, never calling each other by name, never touching, never being alone together—they may as well not be friends at all.

So how to proceed? He loved Elizabeth, but he also respected Governor Swann. He was Elizabeth's father and the governor of Jamaica, but Will respected him even more because he had been so kind to Will when he was just a lad and had even found him the good position as Mr. Brown's apprentice. He wanted to declare his love for Elizabeth, but knew that her father would not approve—in fact, he would probably be offended, which is not how Will wanted to repay the man for his generosity. Wait! What if Elizabeth were also offended? Indeed, how could she not be offended by his interest in her? A lowly blacksmith in love with a lady of her standing? It was pathetic, if nothing else. She would probably pity him, and he couldn't stand that.

Now that he thought of it, he began to realize what might occur if he made his feelings known to Elizabeth and she did not return them. There were a number of ways it might play out, but in all the scenarios Will could think of, his easy friendship with Elizabeth would become awkward and strained and eventually fade. His feelings would come between them and drive them apart. He didn't want that to happen, for their friendship to fade. But it would probably happen anyway if her father had his way.

He wondered if it would in fact be for the best if he just told her of his feelings and was honest with her, clearing the air between them. If she didn't feel the same, it wouldn't matter because their friendship would be ruined anyway by the barrier of etiquette, and at least Will would have been honest.

But on the slight, very unlikely chance that she _did_ return his feelings, what then? As Will contemplated this new scenario, he realized that this might be the worst one of all. Loving her and being powerless to act on that love was bad enough. But to know that she loved him in return and that they could never be together! The thought alone was almost unbearable. He would have to watch her marry another man and have his children, all the while knowing that that man could have been him, if he were only good enough for her.

So then it would be better not to say anything, right? It's bad enough that they can't be friends anymore like they once were—telling her of his love would only make things worse. Probably. Maybe.

Will sighed and shook his head in frustration, then looked out the window. Night had fallen while he was sitting there confusing himself. It was a good thing he had work to do, because he badly needed the distraction. He got up and started pumping the bellows to get the forge going good and hot. It was going to be a long night.


	2. Elizabeth

After more than two months at sea, Elizabeth had almost forgotten what it felt like to ride in a carriage. It bumped and jolted over the rough cobblestone street, so unlike the smooth, rolling motion of the ship cutting through the waves. Elizabeth was pretty sure she preferred the ship.

Despite the bumpy ride, Elizabeth was happy to finally be home in Port Royal. England hadn't been as much fun as she'd hoped. She'd spent the majority of her time there at finishing school, which was—well, onerous, to say the least. At best, she'd tolerated finishing school, and at worst, she'd hated it. She was bad at music, disliked embroidery and sewing, and couldn't care less about etiquette. She was all right at dancing though, and she supposed she would have liked the writing lessons if the teacher weren't so hung up on grammar and form.

However, it wasn't just the subject matter that made finishing school tedious and unenjoyable. The more problematic issue was that Elizabeth didn't have any friends there. She didn't really fit in with the other girls. All they wanted to do was embroider and talk about beaux. That subject got old pretty quickly, and Elizabeth had tried to steer the conversation into more interesting waters. But the other girls had never even heard of Calico Jack Rackham, let alone Anne Bonny or Mary Read. Nor did they care to read adventure stories, and they hadn't an inkling of the current doings of the Royal Navy. In fact, Elizabeth got the distinct impression that most of them didn't even care that the men in His Majesty's Navy toiled daily to ensure the safety of the realm and by extension those simpering, airheaded minxes. She finally gave up on trying to make friends with them. After all, she would only have to endure their company for a few more months and then she would return to Jamaica—and to Will.

The distinct lack of interesting classes and company had thrown into sharp relief just how much she missed Will and how lucky she was to have him as a friend. They shared the same interests and they had history together. What's more, they _understood_ one another. Elizabeth was pretty sure that Will knew her better than anyone else in the world, including her own father. They had shared their secrets, dreams, and fears with each other. No silly girl she met at finishing school could top that.

Speaking of whom, her father had just been talking to Will privately not minutes ago, and Elizabeth wanted to know why.

"So what did you speak to Will about, Father?" She asked him, as he sat across from her in the carriage.

He turned from the window. "Oh, I—I just wanted to inquire about the possibility of commissioning a sword. But I'm afraid his master has fallen a bit behind since the tragedy. Mr. Brown's daughter died only a little while ago."

"Oh no, that's dreadful!" Elizabeth feigned surprise. She had already heard about it in a letter from Will, but she didn't really want her father to know that she had kept up a correspondence with him. He was sure to scold her for it. For some reason, it wasn't considered 'proper.' Elizabeth thought that was ridiculous. After all, what could be more proper than two best friends keeping in touch? "I wish I could have spoken to Will a bit longer. I would like to know how he's doing."

A look crossed her father's face that suggested he wasn't entirely pleased with something. Elizabeth had the feeling she was going to find out what it was sooner or later. Probably sooner.

Sure enough, her father looked her in the eyes and said, "Elizabeth, there's something we need to discuss that I've put off for far too long."

Elizabeth sighed internally. Conversations with her father that started out this way were usually unpleasant. "What is it, Father?"

"My dear, I'm afraid I must insist that from now on, you adhere to proper etiquette and protocol in your interactions with Mr. Turner."

Elizabeth was surprised. She didn't know what she'd been expecting, but it wasn't this. "Father, what do you mean?"

"Elizabeth! You know perfectly well what I mean. You're a smart girl, and quite capable of acting like a lady. You've already learned what protocol entails. No hugging, no teasing, no going off alone. And above all, you mustn't call him Will."

By this time, Elizabeth was shocked and starting to get angry. "But that's his name! What else am I supposed to call him?"

"You should call him Mr. Turner, of course."

"But that's ridiculous. I've always called him Will. It wouldn't feel right to call him 'Mr. Turner' like I don't even know him."

"You see, Elizabeth, this is exactly what I'm talking about. You've grown far too accustomed to familiarity with the lad. You need to get some distance."

Elizabeth really was angry now. "If you're suggesting that I stop being friends with Will—"

"Come now, Elizabeth, that's not what I meant. I just want you to behave like a lady, for once."

Elizabeth, however, knew better. Her father would like nothing better than for her and Will to be no more than acquaintances, as was _proper_. But she simply couldn't stand the thought of greeting Will as 'Mr. Turner' and making polite conversation about the weather before excusing herself to go back to her embroidery. Just thinking about it caused her a sharp and unexpected pain in her chest. Elizabeth was hurt that her father would demand so suddenly with no warning that she cease to be friendly with Will.

"You never had a problem with Will and me being 'familiar' with each other before. I don't see why anything should change. Why bring it up now?"

Her father heaved a sigh. "Because, Elizabeth, you are growing up. You are becoming a woman, and Will is becoming a man. If you continue to act so casually with him, people might think there's something… _untoward_ between the two of you."

"Well, that's ridiculous. Will and I are friends," she said, but somehow her protest sounded weak even to her own ears. "And I don't see how it's any of their business anyway."

"In my experience, young lady, people have a peculiar way of determining what constitutes their business."

"Well I—"

"That's enough, Elizabeth! Not another word. I have said my piece and I expect you to obey your father." The carriage rolled up to the door of the manor as he concluded. "Well?"

Elizabeth sulked, but she could tell he wasn't going to change his mind. "Yes, father," she said, with poor grace.

"Thank you, Elizabeth. Now, you've had a long and tiring day, so why don't you go to your room and rest a bit before dinner is served?"

Elizabeth nodded, but as soon as her father was out of sight, she ran straight for the garden. She wanted to think and she wanted to be alone while she did, so she headed for the jackfruit tree. It was a towering behemoth of a tree standing in the furthest corner of the garden, surrounded by shrubbery so that the space just behind it was protected from view. She and Will used to meet up there all the time, usually in secret. And now, since Will was the one she wanted to think about, she naturally retreated to the place she felt closest to him. She concealed herself in that spot, then leaned against the bole of the tree, her head tilted back against the bark, gazing up at a spiky, half-ripe fruit without really seeing it.

Something about the argument she had just had with her father was making her think about Will in a new light. She had never seen the sense in following proper etiquette, never really thought that there was any reason for it other than appeasing fussy old women. She hadn't been paying attention before, but now she had a reason to. Apparently, her father wanted her to uphold proper protocol because others would think that there was something more to their relationship than friendship—something polite society would consider _indecent_.

This was causing her to reevaluate her feelings for Will. He had always been her friend, that much was certain. In fact, Elizabeth would go so far as to call him her best friend. But she wasn't sure that friendship was all she felt for him anymore. She thought back to earlier that day. She remembered how excited she had been when she had turned from one last look at the open sea to see Will waiting for her on the shore. How her heart had pounded as she ran down the gangplank! And when he took her in his arms…she had never felt anything like it before. Just remembering their embrace made her feel warm and her heartbeat quicken.

Could this possibly mean that she really loved him? Elizabeth wasn't sure. Why hadn't she thought about Will this way before? Perhaps they had just been friends for so long that she had taken him for granted. Or perhaps it was true what her father said, and she was too much of a child to see it until now.

In all of this, another thought surfaced. How did Will feel about her? Did he still consider her just a friend or had he come to think of her as…something more? Elizabeth couldn't even figure out what her own feelings really were, let alone solve the mystery of Will's. Had he felt the same way she had when they hugged on the pier, and is that why he picked her up and spun her around? Maybe, but then again, that was hardly the first time he'd done that with her.

Elizabeth realized she was getting nowhere with these thoughts on her own. She desperately wanted to talk to Will, alone this time, and for longer. She immediately straightened up from her position against the tree trunk and had taken one step toward the garden gate when she remembered that supper would be served soon, and her father would worry if she didn't show. She made a frustrated sound in her throat. Checking to see that the coast was clear, she left her hiding place and went quietly up to her room, as though she had been there the whole time. She would wait until supper was over and everyone was abed before she left to go see Will. She didn't want to be discovered—she had a pretty good idea of what her father would have to say about it if he found out.

* * *

><p>Hours later, Elizabeth found herself walking through the streets of Port Royal, having successfully escaped the manor without notice. It was dark, so she had brought a lantern, but she was sure she could have found the blacksmith's shop even without it, as she had been there many times before. Still, she was glad she had brought it. There were yet a few people in the streets, and she didn't like the looks some of them were giving her. She quickened her pace.<p>

It wasn't long before she was standing outside the smithy, listening to the sounds of metal striking metal issuing from within. She raised her hand to knock, but thought better of it. Instead, she opened the door a crack and slipped inside, shutting it behind her. She turned around, about to call out a greeting, when she paused, captivated by the scene that met her eyes.

The shop was bathed in firelight from the forge and a few lanterns, which gave the place an almost red glow. And there was Will, hammer in hand, striking out a piece of red hot metal against the anvil. The planes of his body were outlined by the red light of the fire, causing half of him to be thrown into shadow, while the other half was revealed in sharp relief. His sleeves were rolled up above his elbows to keep them out of the way. Elizabeth could see the strong muscles in his forearms flex as he wielded the hammer, sparks flying with every swing. A rough, callused hand gripped the metal piece, holding it steady as the other raised the hammer and brought it down in a ringing blow. He was wearing a leather apron, but his shirt was half unbuttoned beneath it. Sweat collected in the hollow of his throat, trickling down his chest. His mouth was set in concentration and his eyes were focused on the task before him. He stopped once to wipe the sweat from his brow, a brief pause in his work, but his attention did not waver.

Watching him work, Elizabeth felt warmth spread throughout her body. Surely that was due to the heat from the forge though, right? But her heart was also beating fast, and she couldn't seem to look away from Will. He hadn't noticed her presence yet, so focused was he on the task at hand. His whole being was focused on his craft in that moment, and Elizabeth found that she liked seeing him like this. She had the sudden desire to run up and hug him just to see him surprised and confused, and then to feel his arms around her once more. She restrained herself though, as she was sure that it would be unwise to launch a stealth attack on him while he had a hammer in one hand and a piece of red-hot metal in the other.

She had only been standing there a short time when Will stopped and doused the piece he was working on in a barrel of water. The noisy hiss and resulting steam brought Elizabeth back to herself. She set her lantern on the floor and stepped forward. "Hello, Will."

As expected, Will jumped and whirled around. "Elizabeth! I mean, Miss Swann! What are you doing here? That is, er, I—I wasn't expecting you." Elizabeth grinned at Will's confusion, but at the same time, she was a bit confused herself by Will's sudden use of 'Miss Swann.' He hadn't called her that since they had first met years ago on the _Dauntless_.

"I came to see you, Will. We didn't have any time to talk earlier today."

"As flattered as I am, you really shouldn't have, Miss Swann. It's very late, and the city can be dangerous after dark."

Elizabeth frowned. She wasn't nearly so concerned about the dark as she was about Will calling her 'Miss Swann.' "Don't do that."

"What?"

"Don't call me that. What's wrong with Elizabeth all of a sudden? You never called me 'Miss Swann' before."

Will turned to put the metal piece he had been working on aside. "That's my mistake. It was very…improper of me to call you by your first name."

Elizabeth was growing worried. Will was not acting at all like himself. He didn't even seem very happy to see her. Could it be that he didn't like her anymore? Had they grown so far apart over the last year? Earlier that afternoon though, he had acted friendly enough…

Elizabeth crossed her arms. "Will, you ought to know by now that I don't care a whit about what's proper, and not even a year at finishing school could change that. I want you to call me Elizabeth."

Will glanced at her, but didn't meet her eyes as he said softly, "Well, I don't think your father would approve."

Then Elizabeth understood. Her father had lied to her about asking Will for a commission. "So _that's_ what my father was talking to you about. He told you to stay away from me."

"He only asked me to follow proper protocol."

Elizabeth gave a very unladylike snort. "It amounts to the same thing. And I'm not going to let my father keep us apart."

Will sighed. "He is your father, though. I respect him, and you should, too."

"Come on, Will, I just want you to call me Elizabeth. We're only bending the rules a little."

"_A little!_ You're out without your father's knowledge or permission and alone with me in the middle of the night!"

"Exactly! So what's a small breach of etiquette in the face of a monstrous one? Besides, what my father doesn't know won't kill him."

Will just shook his head. Elizabeth could tell he wasn't convinced. "I should take you back home right now."

Elizabeth felt a stab of disappointment at his words, but she wasn't ready to give up yet. She walked over to Will and stood in front of him. As he met her eyes, she looked at him with a pleading expression on her face. "Will, it's been so long since we've had the chance to speak to each other. Don't you want me to be here with you?"

Will rubbed his face, smudging ash on his cheek, considering. "All right. You can stay awhile. Since you're obviously not going to give in." But he was smiling as he said it.

Elizabeth smiled too, relieved and happy that he had capitulated so quickly. "Thank you."

Will offered her a seat on a barrel and pulled another one up for himself, then took his apron off before he sat down.

"Why are you working so late?" Elizabeth asked. She had been surprised to find him at work when she arrived—she had thought that she would have to sneak up to his room and wake him up.

"I'm a bit behind, so I'm trying to catch up."

"Why are you so behind?"

"Well, I did take some time off to welcome home a certain traveler from her year-long journey." Elizabeth smiled. "How was it, by the way?"

"Well, the best part of the journey was the journey itself, actually. You know how exciting sailing is. Every evening I watched the sun sink into the sea. Sunsets are best viewed from a ship at sea, you know. There's nothing to block your view, just the vast ocean as far as the eye can see. And don't even get me started on the stars. On clear nights I always stayed on deck to look at them."

"I wish I could have been there with you."

"I wish you were there too. The voyage would have been much more fun. I wasn't allowed to do anything. They wouldn't even let me climb the rigging!"

Will laughed. "I wonder what your finishing school instructors would have to say about young ladies climbing the rigging."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "They would probably faint at the mere suggestion of such a thing."

"Was finishing school really as bad as your letters made it out to be?"

"Worse. I can't imagine anything more boring or tedious than embroidery, and we had to do it almost every day. _Every day_, Will! If I never see another sampler, it will be too soon. It's a good thing Father doesn't insist on it."

"If he doesn't care whether you learn embroidery, why did he send you to finishing school?"

Elizabeth sighed. "So that I could learn etiquette, probably. That's the only thing he insists on." Elizabeth noticed Will frown at this, so she quickly continued, "And I think he wanted me to meet other young ladies. You know, make more friends in high society. I would have been more than happy to make friends, but not with girls like them. I can't believe how vain, ignorant, and selfish those girls could be! And mean, too! They teased a younger girl about her lisp until she cried!"

Will looked disgusted. "That's really sick. But they can't all have been that bad. Could they?" He didn't seem too sure of it.

"Well…no, not really. Only some of the girls were bullies. The rest of them were sycophants." Will gave her a _look_. "All right, I guess not _all_ of them. Some of them were polite, but we didn't have anything at all in common. I tried to talk to them, but they weren't interested in sailing and I wasn't interested in gossiping, so we didn't have much to talk about, really. I guess we could be considered friendly acquaintances though."

"So you didn't make any friends at all in England?"

"I wouldn't say that. Some of the sailors and servants were very friendly." Will just shook his head, grinning. Elizabeth had the feeling he was laughing silently at her. She felt she needed to prove that she could have friendly associations with people of her own class as well, so she continued, "And Captain Norrington and I got along well. He was busy most of the time, but I liked talking with him occasionally. He only ever talked about the Navy, but since I like hearing about it, that was just fine with me."

Will only smiled wider. "So you now have one friend who's a gentleman. Your father can't possibly have any cause to complain now."

He was joking, but Elizabeth replied seriously. "He's not the _only_ one I have, Will." She laid her hand on his where it rested on his knee. "I think you're just as much a gentleman as any man who wears a wig. Maybe even more so."

Will flushed and looked down in embarrassment at her words, but he turned his hand over and clasped hers, squeezing gently. Elizabeth could feel the rough calluses on his palm. His hand was warm, and the warmth seemed to spread up her arm and through her body with a tingling sensation. She shifted closer to him, opening her mouth to tell him something, though she wasn't entirely sure what it was she was about to say.

She never had the chance to say it though, because as she shifted, her foot knocked against something on the floor with a dull clink. The sound was just enough to distract her, and she lost the thread of whatever it was she had been thinking. She looked down and spotted a glass bottle containing some amber liquid. "What's this?" She leaned down and pulled her hand from Will's, grabbing the bottle instead. "Is this…liquor? Will, is there something you want to tell me?" She teased, arranging her face into mock seriousness.

Will grinned. "No! It's not mine, of course."

Elizabeth looked at the bottle again and frowned. It was nearly empty. "I didn't know Mr. Brown drank so much."

Will's face became serious. "He didn't use to. Not before he lost his daughter," he said quietly.

"Oh." Elizabeth wasn't sure what else to say. She looked back at the bottle in her hands. Then, quite suddenly, a thought struck her. She narrowed her eyes at Will. "Is _that_ why you're so far behind in your work? Because Mr. Brown is too drunk to hold a hammer?"

Will looked alarmed. "No! No, of—of course not."

Elizabeth had noticed the slight waver in his voice though. She frowned at him. "Will, don't you lie to me."

Will sighed, glanced at her, then looked down at his hands. "It's…part of the reason."

Elizabeth was indignant. "That's not fair! He's supposed to be teaching you! This is _his_ smithy, after all."

"Elizabeth, he's grieving for his daughter. I don't blame him. He just needs time. I've been cutting down his supply of rum by degrees to wean him off it. He'll be all right eventually. Besides, I already know just about everything that's needed to keep the shop running. Even sword-making."

Will's admission distracted Elizabeth from her tirade. "Really? Can I see one of your swords?"

"Er, sure." Will rose and walked to a rack on the wall, where he retrieved a sword in a sheath. He handed it to Elizabeth. "It's nothing fancy, but it's a serviceable blade."

Elizabeth stood and drew the sword from its sheath, holding it up to the light to examine it. It was long and double-edged, but light enough that even Elizabeth could handle it. The hilt was unadorned, but had a comfortable grip. Elizabeth was impressed. "I might not know as much about swords as you, Will, but I would say that this one is much more than just 'serviceable.'"

Will flushed slightly again at her compliment. "It doesn't have any decoration. I'm still learning how to do gold inlay and things like that."

"Yes, but those things are superfluous. The important thing is that it's excellent at doing what it's meant for." Elizabeth attempted to sheathe the sword, but fumbled and dropped it. She cringed at her clumsiness, but Will leapt into action before the sword had touched the ground. He somehow managed to catch the flat of the blade on the toe of his boot, kicking it straight back up. The sword flew high into the air, revolving as it did so, and Will caught it in his right hand, ready for combat.

Elizabeth clapped, delighted at his display of swordsmanship. "Will, how did you _do_ that?"

Will sheathed the sword as he replied. "I've been practicing. I convinced a naval officer to give me fencing lessons last year. Didn't I write about it in my letters?"

"I'm quite sure you didn't." Elizabeth found herself a little irritated that he had neglected to mention it.

Will frowned at the sword he was replacing on the rack. "Sorry, I must have forgotten to include it. There's been a lot of other things on my mind, I suppose."

Elizabeth's peevishness melted away as she realized how busy Will must have been this past year. Taking care of both his master and his master's business was a heavy burden for a 16-year-old. She sat back down and patted the barrel next to her, smiling encouragingly at him, to indicate that she wanted him to sit with her again. Will obliged, looking relieved that she seemed to forgive him. Elizabeth stared into the fire, contemplating the flickering flames. A minute passed in companionable silence, then Elizabeth sighed. "I wish things could still be simple, like they were when we first met. On a sea voyage together, no responsibility, no one to tell us we couldn't be friends. Things were easier when we were children."

"Sometimes I wish that too." Elizabeth turned to find Will looking at her, a soft, almost wistful smile on his face. "But if we were still children, we wouldn't be able to appreciate how good we had it as kids. I, for one, recall a certain little girl who couldn't wait to grow up so she could sail the seven seas."

Elizabeth burst out laughing. "You're so right! Oh, the irony!" Will chuckled at that. Elizabeth continued, "Do you remember the games we played when we were children? My favorite was when we played pirates."

"Color me surprised." Elizabeth smacked Will's shoulder in mock indignation at that. Will just grinned. "All the pirate games? Or just some of them?"

"All of them. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I always thought that you preferred the one where you captured me and made me your slave."

Elizabeth grinned and looked at Will with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Well, of course, that one was superior to the others we played. That, and the one where I was Davy Jones and forced you to join my crew."

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you got some sort of twisted pleasure out of subjugating me."

"I really can't help myself. You're just so good at obeying my orders. And as I recall, I also played the damsel in distress and let you rescue me sometimes."

"Oh sure, all of about three times out of the hundreds we played pirates."

"Stop your whining. It's very unbecoming for a gentleman of your stature." Elizabeth thought she noticed Will tense a bit as she said that, but she wasn't sure what had brought it on. She sighed. "It's too bad we're too old for that now."

"Oh, you think so? I could still kidnap you, commandeer a ship, and hold you for ransom."

Elizabeth laughed. "You'd never be able to handle a ship on your own. You wouldn't even make it out of the bay."

"A rowboat, then."

Elizabeth laughed harder, which caused Will to start laughing, too. In her mirth, she leaned her head against Will's shoulder, and Will's arm came up around her shoulders. Though her giggles eventually subsided, Elizabeth didn't move away. She was enjoying being close to Will. She placed her arm around Will's waist, feeling the heat of his body alongside her own, and felt that tingling sensation spread through her again. For a while they were silent, sitting together companionably and staring into the fire.

Elizabeth wondered if now would be the right time to tell Will how she felt. However, she herself still wasn't exactly sure what that feeling was. Was it the result of their deep friendship? Or attraction? Yes, she was fairly certain now that she was feeling no small amount of attraction towards Will. But what she was most uncertain of was whether that attraction went deeper, whether it was…love. Was what she was feeling love? Well, of course she loved Will—he was her best friend! Could it be, though, that she loved him as…more than just a friend?

For years now they had been inseparable. They had done things for each other that they would attempt for no one else. She had snuck out at night to see him, hid his letters from her father, kept his secrets, told him hers. If she were to marry someone…but no, she was too young to marry. What had gotten into her? She wasn't going to think about that now.

Though now that the thought had entered her mind, she couldn't help but think of it. When it came time for her to marry, she knew that her husband-to-be would need the permission of her father, and Elizabeth knew that he would never approve of such a relationship between herself and Will. His only daughter in love with a blacksmith? No, it would never do. He wouldn't just be shocked and frustrated as he usually was at her disobedience. He would probably be angry and even hurt that she had gone against him in this matter. Elizabeth loved her father, and even though she had a rebellious streak, there were some lines she hadn't crossed. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him.

Elizabeth realized suddenly that Will had come to understand this much faster than she had. His earlier attempt to be formal and distant with her was testament to that. Perhaps he wasn't thinking of any possible relationship other than friendship, but he knew that their refusal to act appropriately would cast a shadow on both their relationships with her father. She knew her father was right in one thing. Behavior like that which they had exhibited today would never be seen in society as mere friendship. Imagine if someone caught them here, arms around each other in the middle of the night. Even though they had done nothing but talk, it would be a most compromising position—one over which her father would be very angry and hurt. Elizabeth was starting to understand how selfish and immature she had been. When she had snuck out to visit Will, she hadn't been thinking of her father's feelings or Will's reputation. She had only been thinking of what she wanted. The realization made her cringe.

When Will finally said, "Speaking of kidnapping, someone is going to realize you're gone eventually, and they'll probably assume the worst. I'd better take you home," Elizabeth sighed in disappointment, but she didn't protest. Even when Will made her promise not to come alone to see him after dark again, her opposition was weak. She knew that he insisted on it because he cared about her and didn't want her to get hurt, so she agreed in the end. It wasn't just flattery, what she had said about him being a gentleman. He was a good man, that Will Turner.

They walked arm in arm back to her house, sometimes speaking, sometimes silent. Will walked Elizabeth right up to the back garden gate, then stopped.

"It was good to see you again, Elizabeth. You shouldn't have done it, but I am glad you came to see me."

Elizabeth smiled softly and nodded. "It's been too long. I hope it's never so long again." Then she leaned forward and kissed Will on the cheek, whispering in his ear. "Good night, Will." She turned away to enter the gate, but not before she saw a slight blush steal across Will's face. As she walked away, she heard his quiet reply.

"Good night, Elizabeth."


End file.
